10
Dusty Glasses
Callum
Callum leaned his head out of the rail window and let the wind tug at the strands of his hair, relishing the scent of the desert breeze, grateful for anything other than the rank fishy odor now lodged in his nose after three weeks of sucking the foul air through his nostrils.
Arkona Bay was beautiful, but damn did it smell.
He could just make out the lines of the barracks at the edge of his sight.
The sun had dipped below the horizon and painted everything in swathes of gold and crimson, draping warm liquid honey over the skyline, as far as the eye could see.
It made the desert landscape seem like something more than just rocks, sand, cacti, and parched lefiin.
Something truly beautiful.
When the rail landed at the station and came to a stop, Cal grabbed his bags and donned his hat.
His hair tickled his ears—a fresh cut was in store—but first, he’d promised Barlow he’d have dinner with him and Ma.
He brushed down the front of his uniform and eased through the narrow aisle, careful not to bump anyone.
People rushed off the rail car like ants down a hill.
There was an unspoken order to it.
A nod at the conductor, and then they’d present their travel papers to the man at the gate, he’d stamp it, and then they’d move on out of the station, where oftentimes there were other folks to greet them.
There’d never been someone to greet him, but he didn’t mind.
Cal enjoyed the solitude most days.
He smiled at the man behind the gate and handed him the neatly folded papers.
The bold red stamp declared him “returned”
to Durask.
A mumbled thanks, and then he moved past and down the two-step platform.
Shifting the heavy canvas bag to his shoulder, he headed toward the barracks.
Almost home.
A woman with big blue eyes smiled at him as he passed.
Her tight blonde curls poked out from beneath a bonnet bedecked in flowers and she wore a fitted pink dress that accentuated her tiny waist.
Of course, there were likely hoops and pillows beneath the big skirt to make it seem doubly small.
She screamed wealth.
Especially when she lifted a satin gloved hand and offered a coy wave with a wiggle of her fingers.
He smiled to himself and tipped his hat as he moved on past and kept walking.
She was certainly pretty enough, and likely Jameson would have taken the leap, but Cal wanted something more than just a petty fling in the sheets.
He always had.
Sure, he’d indulge from time to time, but better to find that sort of company in a brothel rather than a rich man’s daughter.
Thinking of his friend brought a smile to his face.
After meeting with Barlow and Ma, he’d have to go see Jameson.
After nearly three weeks, he was anxious to see his friends and comrades.
Cal dropped his bag onto the bed in his dorm room.
It was a simply furnished room.
He had a desk in the corner that was home to his books, ledgers, and sketchbooks.
A dresser and a small mirror decorated the other side with a wash basin next to it.
This had been his home for the last three years.
He sighed and plopped onto his bed to remove his boots and uniform, then he washed his face and changed into something more appropriate to have dinner with his mother.
Dressed in a casual linen shirt and pants with his jacket slung over his shoulder, he left the room to go find Barlow.
The veterinarian’s office was empty when he arrived.
A strange foreboding hung in the air, thick and heavy with a foul taste that prickled the hair on the back of his neck.
Cal eased inside and took a match from his pocket to light the luminar above the desk.
Golden light painted the small office ochre.
Pages of notes written in Barlow’s hasty hand were sprawled over the wooden surface.
A pen with dried ink on the tip.
Barlow’s glasses.
As if he’d taken them off to rub his nose and forgot to put them back on again.
But that didn’t make sense.
While Barlow had some lax habits, untidiness wasn’t often one of them.
He clearly hadn’t been here in several days, judging by the dust beginning to collect on the surfaces.
Callum’s heart gave a pitiful thump as worry gnawed in his belly.
He tugged out the drawers and rifled through the books that had all manner of equine knowledge and one about raising chickens and goats, but found no hint as to Barlow’s whereabouts.
Cal cursed silently to himself and turned to look through the cabinetry.
Potions and bottles, first aid supplies and animal feed, all organized in an orderly fashion, gave no signs of trouble.
He’d learned long ago to trust his gut; it never failed him, but perhaps time away had dulled its edge.
He checked the date on the docket and peered outside at the sky, now a pale purple and getting darker by the second.
Barlow had known he was coming.
They’d written and planned to meet, and Barlow never missed an appointment.
With a huff, Callum grabbed the glasses from the desk, in case his little brother had just been foolish and forgot them, then blew out the lamp and closed the door behind him.
More urgently now, he hustled toward the other side of the barracks building where Barlow lived.
Cal went over every sentence in their letters again and again in his mind.
The last reply from Barlow had been over a week ago when they’d agreed to dinner.
It wasn’t like Barlow to not be where he said he’d be.
Nor for his space to be dusty.
Granted, it didn’t take long for things here to be covered in a layer of the fine desert powder swept in with the breeze.
Perhaps he’d caught a bug that had him laid up in his room.
Or maybe he’d been called out to care for an ailing milking cow.
Or maybe he’d taken some leave and found a girl after all.
But no, he would’ve mentioned it.
When Cal reached door 412A, he knocked and held his breath.
He knocked again, rocking back on his heels.
No answer.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Callum was sure of it.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
He pounded his fist on the door and made the hinges shudder.
Still no answer.
Did he dare shoulder the door down? Maybe Barlow’d been injured and was in the infirmary. Best to check there first. With his heart in his throat, he stomped away, barely keeping from jogging.
The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air and burned his nose as he pushed through the double doors of the infirmary.
The nurse, an elderly woman with mousy brown hair beneath a white bonnet, assured him that no one matching Barlow’s name or description was occupying a medical cot.
Panic welled beneath Callum’s skin from head to toe and shuddered forth in beads of sweat that moistened his brow.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
Faces became a blur of apricot, umber, and stubble, the uniforms a haze of shadow in his periphery as he rushed through the halls.
Cal skidded to a stop when he passed the secretary’s office.
A pretty brunette with her hair pulled up high in a bun sat at her desk.
What was her name? Tina? Kathy? Kate! Perhaps Kate would know Barlow’s whereabouts, since any leave would have needed to be reported.
He knocked as he entered, dipping his head when she startled and ink splattered over her page.
“Excuse me, ma’am, my apologies.
I’m looking for my brother, have you seen him? Lieutenant Barlow Reid, ma’am.”
“Lieutenant Barlow Reid?”
she parroted.
Her eyes drifted to the ceiling as she sorted her memories.
The moment she snatched up the one she was looking for, he knew something was wrong.
There was a tentativeness when she met his eyes once more.
“The veterinarian?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kate paled slightly and her eyes darted behind him for a moment.
“Sir, I hate to be the one to tell you this…”
She cleared her throat and held up her finger.
Turning on her heel, she strolled to a cabinet on the far wall and sorted through the files.
Her fingers were trembling.
With an empathetic sigh, she handed him a file.
“This is from just under a week ago, sir,”
she said softly.
Cal opened the file and his heart stopped.
It just plain stopped beating.
He didn’t remember thanking her or saying goodbye.
One moment he was standing in front of her reading the file, his pulse roaring in his ears, and the next he was in his room on the bed, still staring at the words.
Barlow was dead.